


Abuelito

by Peevesie_Fics



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grandparents & Grandchildren, Growing Up, Internal Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:20:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25444582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peevesie_Fics/pseuds/Peevesie_Fics
Summary: Snippets of Elena's feelings towards Héctor in different stages of her life and afterlife.
Relationships: Héctor Rivera & Elena Rivera
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	Abuelito

**Author's Note:**

> Elena's feelings towards Héctor needed looking into, so this happened.  
> In the second part I have referenced an incident from chapter 6 of [ Un Mundo Raro](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14840528), thanks to [ StarberryCupcake ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarberryCupcake/pseuds/StarberryCupcake) for letting me borrow that idea. It's not absolutely necessary to read it for this but it's an awesome fic so go check it out anyway if you haven't already.

Elena remembers a conversation she had with her sister in their room one night long ago. She does not remember the context, but for some reason, the man who had left Mamá and Abuelita had been mentioned that day. She remembers Victoria lying on her side of the bed, staring straight up at the ceiling, saying almost to herself, 'I've always wanted to know what he's like.'

'Who?' Litte Elena asked her as she climbed onto the bed. 'Who, Victoria?'

'Mamá's papá. I wonder what he's like. But I can't ask Abuelita, and I don't know if Mamá -'

'What?' trust Victoria to wonder something so weird. 'Why?'

Victoria turned to look at Elena. 'I'm just curious about him. I've always wanted to know why he left. Maybe there's more to him leaving than we know.' Pause. 'He must have been interesting, I mean Abuelita loved him so much -'

'Abuelita hates him,' said Elena sceptically. 'How do you know she loved him?'

Victoria looked at her for a long time. Her glasses looked like solid white orbs, reflecting the moonlight coming in through the window. Elena felt a chill run through her body for some reason, but not of fear. Finally Victoria said, looking away from her at the ceiling again, 'She wouldn't be so sad about him if she didn't love him.'

The words struck her more than she realised at the time. It was a hot summer night, but Elena still snuggled up close to her sister that night.

She wouldn't be so sad about him if she didn't love him.

Those words stuck with her. She and Victoria have had countless late night talks since then, but that one still stands out in her memory.

*

Elena saw her Abuelita cry exactly once. That was the closest she ever came to understanding her pain. She had heard the story of her past before, but that one time she saw with her own eyes exactly what that músico had done to his family. Her mind was reeling all day, replaying the image of her strong, stoic Abuelita breaking down like that, over and over again. That was the first time she really understood how much music hurt.

Victoria's words kept coming back to her. She loved him. And he threw that away for music. That realisation left Elena feeling personally betrayed. How could that man not appreciate the wonderful wife and daughter he had been blessed with, and throw them away like they were nothing? He had left his wife and daughter alone to fend for themselves, which was despicable in itself, but more than that, he had betrayed their love.

Elena made a vow that day. Not only would she do everything in her power to make sure that no one in her family followed in that man's footsteps, she would never let anyone in her family forget how much their family loved them.

*

Elena had to be strong for her family. She could never let anyone see how helpless she felt when her mamá called out for her papá. She didn't show it, but sometimes, when she was alone, she found herself wishing none of it had ever happened. Mamá's papá deserved all her hatred for what he had done, yes, but sometimes she wished it didn't have to be that way. She wished that he had never left, that her mamá and abuelita had not been hurt that way.

That was the only blemish in her otherwise perfect life. Her family was happy now, but the effects of that man's departure lived on in her mamá, which showed as she began to lose her memory. All because of him. Because he had been too stupid to see what he had, and had run after what he wanted instead.

It was all his fault. But even as she cursed him in her mind, she realised she was tired. Yes, she wished it had never happened. She wished she didn't _have_ to hate him. Hating someone for all her life was exhausting. Was it fair to have to hate him all the time, when she should have been fondly remembering a kind and loving abuelito she had known? She had deserved to be loved by her abuelito, she and Victoria, and Abuelita had deserved to live her life with her husband, and Mamá had deserved her papà. Yet all she got was a blank space in a photo where he should have been. And resentment where there should have been fondness and respect.

It was all his fault.

*

Elena didn't believe Miguel's story at first. Who would? But then, gradually, she did, because that was the only story that explained everything. She grudgingly allowed her grandson to tell her everything, and the more she heard the story, the more absurd it got - and the more believable.

Miguel told him about a man who had died too young, his chance at life taken away from him too early, who was barely remembered, heartbroken, burdened with guilt, tormented with the knowledge of what he had done to his family. Her maternal instincts cried out in sympathy for the poor man - boy, almost. But then she remembered her abuelita crying.

Those few months were nothing short of a long, constant miracle. There was her mamá recovering like magic, there was legal fiasco, which she had never imagined happening with her family, there was _music_. In the middle of it all, at the back of her mind, a lonely, broken twenty-one year old husband and father and a selfish musician were at war. The scale kept tipping in favour of the former when she talked to Miguel (who told her about his Papá Héctor every chance he got, in very obvious attempts to soften her towards him), only to tip the other way when she remembered her abuelita.

'Are you all right, Mija?' her mamá asked one day. And when Elena heard that caring voice asking that question after so many years, decades, she did not even try to fight her daughterly instincts. She was troubled, and Mamá could help her.

'What was he like, Mamá?' she asked the question she had never dreamed of asking, for fear of hurting Mamá.

She was far from hurt. Her whole face lit up as she began to tell her everything she remembered about her papá. It was not much, but it was a lot considering she had only known him for the first three years of her life. Elena listened with rapt attention to her mother's fond accounts, and the man Miguel had told her about came alive once again.

But this man was still a stranger, someone she had never known existed, someone who had nothing to do with the walkaway musician she had grown up hearing about.

Until her mamá said, 'He often used to go away to play, sometimes for months, so the last time he left, I kept waiting. I never stopped waiting ...'

Elena squeezed her hand reassuringly, and she smiled. 'He loved to play, but I think he wouldn't have left so much if we didn't need the money.'

'He left to play so he could earn for you?' This was completely different from what she had thought she knew all along - but it made sense. Finally, everything was close to making sense. 'When he didn't come home, it looked like he had left you to play music ...'

And Elena understood. Nobody won the fight in her head, because the young father and the selfish musician were the same person. A loving husband and father who had been stupid and selfish in his youth. A faithful man who had made a mistake.

'You were right, Victoria,' she thought to herself. 'There _was_ more to his leaving than we knew. You were right all along.'

She still had no idea if she could forgive him for what he had done. Probably not. But she learned to be at peace with him. Maybe she could not forgive him, or even accept him, but she could truthfully tell herself that she did have memory of an abuelito now - taped back with her abuelita and mamá in an old framed photo.

*

'Be nice to your abuelito, Mija,' Mamá warned her into her ear, but she need not have worried. Elena had no intention of being anything but nice for the moment.

In the past decade, Elena had grown to accept her abuelito, more or less. Memories of her mamá and abuelita's pain still plagued her sometimes, and she probably would never forgive him for that, but for the most part, she was at peace with the idea of him.

Now, however, when it was time to meet the real person, she was nervous. The person she had fabricated a decade ago from scraps of stories was suddenly falling apart at the prospect of meeting him in person, at the reminder that he really existed, not just in her head.

After prolonged hugs with everyone, she came to him. He was by Abuelita's side, waiting patiently, a tentative, almost nervous smile tugging his mouth. A million thoughts crossed her mind as she looked up at him. He seemed nice, with had a kind and approachable air, and dios, he really was young. Was he nervous like her? He was absolutely nothing like Abuelita, but they were holding hands, she noticed -

Overcoming her apprehension, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. She felt him stiffen for a fraction of a second, then felt the pressure of his arms on her back. The hug was brief, but all of a sudden, it made him real to her. He was really here, in flesh and blood (metaphorically), and days, years of getting to really know him lay ahead of her.

Somehow, she didn't think it could be bad, not least because Victoria whispered to her on the way home, 'You'll like him. He's sweet, like Mamá.'

*

'Go talk to him,' Victoria said out of the blue. 'Go on.'

'What?' Elena replied, taken by surprise.

'Go talk to him,' Victoria repeated patiently. 'You have been talking to all of us, talk to him now. You don't want it to get awkward.'

Not two days had passed since Elena's death, and she had been forcibly stopped by her abuelita and tía from immediately joining in the housework and the workshop so she could have some post death rest. She would never admit it but she was thankful to not have to work much while she got used to her afterlife. There was a lot to do take up her time, including catching up with her family.

It was true that she had not yet had a proper conversation with her abuelo. She saw him in the frequently, since he was never in the workshop for long. She saw him laughing with her tíos at meals, chatting with her parents and Tía Rosita occasionally, walking outside with Abuelita in the afternoons - it was unbelievable how happy she was when she was with him - talking or reading with Victoria in the evenings, poring over his songbook and tapping rhythms on tables with his fingers. And, once or twice, she had seen him looking at her thoughtfully, and if she didn't know better, she would say worriedly.

She was doing nothing at the moment and Héctor was back from the workshop. Victoria did have a point in her not wanting it to get awkward, so she marched up to Héctor without arguing with her. 'Hola,' she said to him as she sat down on the sofa next to him. 'I came to talk to you.'

He looked mildly surprised but smiled. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated for a second and said, 'Are you settling in all right?'

'Sí,' she said with confidence. 'I had a good life and I was ready to see everyone again.'

'Everyone missed you so much, and I was looking forward to meeting you, too.'

'Me too,' she replied.

'You were?' he looked almost shocked.

'Sí, of course.'

He looked at the floor and said, 'Oh.' And then, after a pause, he said tentatively and quietly, 'I thought you hated me.'

'I did,' said Elena bluntly. 'But I don't any more.'

He looked up from the floor to her, a lost sort of look in his eyes.

'Miguelito told me everything,' she continued. 'I heard what happened to you.'

'You - don't hate me anymore because of that? But ... that doesn't change what I did, Mija.' he looked alarmed the moment he said it, and made a brave but failed attempt at an apologetic smile.

'Está bien,' she said to him, not knowing what else to say, and not quite understanding why he looked apologetic. He looked like he wanted to say something, and she waited for him to speak.

'Elena,' he said after a deep breath. 'I - I am sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I should have been there for you, just as I should have been there for Imelda and Coco, but -'

That was all it took. Elena suddenly realised that she had been dying to love him without doubt, and she only had to hear his regret in his voice and see it in his eyes to forgive him completely. Elena was still used to being the matriarch, and the boy - it didn't matter that he was her grandfather - was in pain. So in a moment, she had inflicted on him a hug that would put Tía Rosita to shame and was comforting him with every pet name she could think of.

He was completely still and when she released him he was staring at her with a bewildered look on his face. 'What's wrong, Abuelito?'

He blinked a few times. 'I - nothing, Mija.' He turned away, and blinked again. 'I don't deserve you.'

'But you are stuck with us,' said Elena promptly, feeling more in her element with him now. 'Do you want something to eat? You should eat more, you are too thin.'

'You don't have to get anything now. Stay here with me. Besides, it's not like I'm getting any fatter anymore.'

He had a point, so she made herself comfortable next to him and prepared for a long talk.

This was going to work.

**Author's Note:**

> For Héctor's leaving I have used my headcanon that it was just another trip, until he stopped writing altogether. That's when it began to look like he had run off, and there was never any reason to doubt that.  
> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
